Tiger In the Rain
by macizoz
Summary: A flash of imagination on an otherwise usual day... enjoy and please comment!


Grey clouds curdled on the horizon as a cold drizzle rained steadily down, causing me to splash through growing puddles as I walked along the pavement. It was an icy morning, not the sort that most people particularly liked to be out in, but one doesn't have much choice when they have to catch the bus to school, as was my situation. Bag heavy on my shoulder, jumper sleeves stretched down to my shivering fingertips, I tramped on. The brick house on the left was soon behind me. Then the cottage on my right. Soon I was marching straight towards the part of my journey I hated most, where grappling brambles and thickets burst from the hedge like tangles of snarling barbed wire…

Casually, I parted the heavy foliage before me, as though making a pathway through the plate-sized leaves and intertwining vines was nothing more normal than opening my front door. The very air around me was buzzing: humidity hung like a draping curtain around me and a myriad of rainforest sounds rose up to the chalky sky in the cacophony of a jungle choir. The high-pitched rattle of crickets, screech of treetop monkeys and calls of flashy parrots, hiding their bright colours in the foliage above filled the jungle around me with energy. And I made my way through it all, Tamara Moule the world-famous explorer.

Nothing was too big. Not the gnarled tree-roots I clambered over in sturdy boots. Not the slinking creatures watching from the shadows. Not the poisonous insects or tree frogs with their deadly skins marbled in electric blue.

I determinedly pushed my way on. Every footstep covered was one closer to my next world-changing discovery. Countless new species were out there, just waiting to be noticed; I would be the one to find them.

I had just grappled through a sea of emerald vines hanging low to the damp earth when I heard it. Only years of fearless exploration could have rewarded me with sharp ear needed to hear those softly padded footsteps. But I heard them, and knew that the shadow lurking behind a nearby clump of enormous, moss-encrusted tree-trunks was striped deadly orange and black before I saw it.

Tiger.

Every muscle in my body surged with adrenaline, and each of my senses suddenly sharpened. My whole body felt alive and exhilarated, yet each action was edged with the weariness that comes with dealing with dangerous predators. Steadily, the beast approached.

The shadow grew larger, more distinctive. Within moments I heard the deep breaths that seemed to vibrate through my whole body. The first flash of colour I saw was the flame-gold tip of a giant paw, soft fur brushed over a curling claw, then after what seemed like millennia, light fell on a heavy, proudly-held head, and a pair of jade-green eyes locked challengingly on mine.

Inside, I was exhilarated. This was no wildlife documentary watched from the safety of your home. If it was though, this would be the part where everyone in the room grows tense, catching their breath as the skilled wildlife expert comes face-to face with the beast. No walls or fences. No regrets.

I held his gaze with unbridled calm, breaths slow and measured. Just a few slanting rays of sunlight managed to sliver through the foliage above, but those that did land on his glossy coat seemed to paint it in with long slices of flame. His head was huge; long tufts of white fur could just be made out behind the rich golden ochre that seemed to coat most of the hairs on his body, save the whiplash black stripes that fanned out above his eyes and continued down his lithe frame.

For a split second, the thought struck me that perhaps he would decide to make me his enemy. There always was a chance that he could choose me to satisfy a gnawing hunger. That was when the thunder came.

Like the roar of a beast much more deadly than the one before me, it seemed to roll from above and echo through the trees, almost shaking them to their very roots. That was all it took; the tiger was gone. With a quick widening of the eyes, a knowing flash of the snow-tipped tail, he was off, bounding through the trees. Clearly he did not want to be caught in the torrential downpour that followed.

The droplets fell heavy and warm all around; despite all of my experience in the tropics, the seemingly endless tide of water falling from the sky never failed to amaze me. Drowned out were the calls of the parrots, and insects; as each droplet pattered down, a new percussion was formed.

"And the tiger is gone," I whispered.

"Tiger? Don't you mean the bus, dear?"

My head snapped round to the left to see an elderly lady standing next to me in a red raincoat. Rain continued to drizzle down from the grey sky above, and only the flimsy bus shelter in which we stood protected us from the icy drops. She raised a hand to point down the road. "You weren't waiting for that one, were you?"

The yellow headlights of my school-bus were becoming blurred smudges of light in the rain as the vehicle receded up the road. Oh yes, the tiger had gone. So had my bus.


End file.
